Marry Me
by bluethursday
Summary: Summary: Tim and Damian are the same age and attend the same school. Damian is smitten with Tim and the first words he say's to him are "Marry Me".
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Tim and Damian are the same age and attend the same school. Damian is smitten with Tim and the first words he say's to him are "Marry Me".

Disclaimer: I own nothing

**Marry Me**

The first thing that comes out of Damian's mouth when he speaks to Tim is "Marry Me."

They had never spoken before, but Damian had stalked from afar, hunted his prey and observed everything there was to observe about one Timothy Jackson Drake.

He concluded his observation with two thoughts. One, Timothy was perfect and two, Damian needed him in ways that made his chest hurt when he thought of Tim going off and marrying people who weren't Damian Wayne.

Tim looked up at the boy in front of him. Damian Wayne, son of Bruce Wayne, the new Robin. More importantly for Tim, one of the most popular boy's in school despite, or perhaps due to his attitude. Damian was sadistic, he laughed when others cried. He was horrible and spoiled, and infinitely sweet to the cat that hid behind the school bringing it treats and calling it Cat.

Tim showed no signs of shock, his mother taught him better than that, but he does blink twice in row. A concession to the oddity of being asked to marry someone when the person in question is the same age as you and that age is twelve.

Tim pauses for a moment, watching the stiffness of Damian's shoulders, the hunger in his eyes. The moment after he said it, he almost looked as though he wanted to take it back. The moment after that he looked at Tim, serious and imposing. Decisive.

Tim has his answer.

"Yes."

Damian's eyes widen in shock before he picks Tim up, his hands hesitant as though he's afraid that if he presses too hard, he'll hurt the smaller boy. He has never learned how to be gentle and he will be damed if he hurts Tim. Not now, not ever, but especially not when he has consented to being Damian's.

With anyone else, the youngest Robin would question motives, would dissect and rip apart, but he's watched Tim and he knows that Tim watches everyone. Observes everyone.

He knows that Tim would not have said yes if he didn't mean it, if he wasn't sure. He knows that Tim wouldn't have said yes if there wasn't something about Damian that made him want to stay with him, be his, forever.

"We will have a beautiful wedding and you may have whatever you wish as long as you remain safe." Damian murmurs down at Tim, who clutches at his shirt softly.

There is a smile on his lips and Damian has never seen him smile before. Tim is happy.

**Marry Me: In Laws**

Damian looks down at the figure in his arms and smiles as carefully as he can. Tim watches him silently, fingers playing with the lapel of Damian's blazer, the corner of his mouth can't help but twitch ever so slightly. He is happy.

"This is Wayne Manor, but you won't like it, so when we get older I will provide a more suitable abode."

Tim nods, amused but comforted. The manor looked empty, far too lonely for his taste.

Carrying Tim to the library, Damian sets him down on the largest arm chair, fully intending to join Tim before the many sounds of the imbeciles who share his home ring through the air.

"Damian, lil D, guess what-" Dick pauses after barging through the doors. There is another person with Damian. There has never been another person near Damian. Damian never brought anyone home.

"You have a friend over." Dick breathed out, surprise clear as the widening of his eyes. He smiled as he walked up the the pair. It was good that Damian had finally, finally made a friend. Holding out his arm Dick introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Dick, Damian's older brother."

Clear blue eyes were the first thing he saw. Gracefully sloped cheekbones the next. Damian's companion was beautiful. He almost looked as though he was made not from flesh and bone but porcelain. The hand that shook his was soft, "Timothy Drake." A name for a face.

"Cease touching my betrothed, I know where you've been Grayson."

Dick laughed and pulled his hand back. It was cute that Damian was so possessive of his friends. Tim folded his own hands in his lap. "Is that any way to talk to your favorite….betrothed?" Dick stuttered, his mind failing to understand the word in relation to his younger brother. His younger brother who routinely beat people beat people half to death. For fun.

Damian sighed in frustration "This" He gestured towards Tim "Is my fiance."

Dick blinked. "You're twelve."

Damian snorted and ignored him as if being twelve meant absolutely nothing. "I'm getting Bruce." Dick insisted. Looking over his shoulder at the pair, Tim remained unmoved, his facial expression blank. Dick shivered. Apparently, Damian liked them cold.

…

When they arrived, Damian and Tim were playing chess. Tim moved his knight.

"Damian." Bruce began "Are you currently engaged."

Without looking up from the chessboard Damian answered "Yes."

"I understand that you may have feelings towards Timothy, but you are twelve."

Damian finally looked up from their game, his eyes piercing as they looked back at Bruce. "I am aware that we are twelve, that is of course the reason we are betrothed, not married. The marriage will occur upon our reaching the appropriate age."

Bruce nodded, while Jason tried not the laugh. Dick panicked quietly beside him. Their youngest Robin was serious. Completely and utterly serious, and his "betrothed" watched them like an exquisite marionette. Lovely but dead.

"You are aware that there a certain things about our family that are private. How much do know about Timothy."

Damian smiled darkly "Everything."

Batman scowled at the implication. How long had Damian watched afar? How far had he gone in his pursuit? "And how much does he know about you?"

Tim laughed, a soft little sigh of a laugh, "More than you want me to…Batman."

The men at the door tensed as Damian turned back to face Tim. "I had suspected that you knew, but the confirmation was much appreciated."

Tucking a strand of hair behind his ear Tim smiled. "Your main computer systems are lacking."

Jason spluttered in shock.

Damian stood placing himself in front of Tim. " Enough. Timothy is intelligent, he has no ulterior motives towards this union and above all he is a civilian which means that Batman" Damian glared directly at Bruce "can't interrogate him. Is that understood."

Bruce nods. If he had tried to take Timothy away from Damian, Damian would have fought to kill.

Alfred smiled. "Welcome to the family Master Timothy. Will you be wearing white to your wedding, you would look quite charming in the right tone."

Tim blinked. "Yes, actually. I was thinking a winter wedding would be appropriate, or perhaps a spring one. Thank you for inquiring Mr. Pennyworth."

"Not at all Master Timothy, I have some fabric samples, perhaps you could look over them after tea."

Damian sniffed, sitting back down, placing his hand over Tim's. "At least some of you have the right idea. Peppermint if you will, Alfred. Honey not Sugar." Damian had always preferred his tea plain.

"Of course." Alfred nodded. "Is that all or would some snacks be amiss?"

Damian moved his rook. "Nothing with any traces of strawberry. Tim is mildly allergic to them, other variations of fruit would be fine."

Alfred left the room, serene as always. Tim moved his pawn.

**Marry Me: Mothers**

**Janet**

Janet meets Damian once. He is a stiff backed figured sitting firmly on the beige leather sofa she had chosen for the house so long ago. His eyes are dangerous in their sharpness. She places her impeccably manicured hands on the teacup. This is not Timothy's friend.

He sits ever so slightly in front, angeled to cover the smaller boy to the best of his ability while remaining unobtrusive. The protective stance is one she has seen in lovers far too many times.

"Jack," she starts. "Could you pick up some milk. We seem to have ran out." That was a lie. There is a full milk carton in the fridge but Jack smiles and kisses her on the cheek before leaving. He does not know about the milk carton. She intends to keep it that way. Her eyes never leave Damian. She has not been a good mother, but she will not allow this silly boy ruin her son. Timothy is fragile. She knows this like she knows the amount of food in their fridge, the curve of her hand and the precise amount of tiles in bathroom floor.

Fourty six.

She had counted them once when she had been pregnant with her son. The third one after one miscarriage and one stillborn. Her only living child. She will not let this boy ruin her son.

Eyes narrowing she begins, "What are your intentions towards my son?" The question is calm, spoken with the ice Janet has spent her life perfecting. The ice Tim mimicked so very often.

The boy is calm, his eyes meet hers. "I intend to marry him. We are engaged."

Janet nods and places the tea cup back on the table, making sure to place the cup on it's appropriate coaster. Cherry wood stained so easily. "You are a Wayne." The words are not a question they are a statement. Damian does not answer. He waits for her to speak. His calm is satisfying.

"You will provide for my son. You will make him happy."

It is not a question.

She has never seen her son happier. Tim positively glowed with love. Radiant and far more splendid than she had ever seen him. He was bright and shining and wonderful. At this moment he was beautiful and Janet could be nothing but happy.

Damian's eyes remain trained on her. He is assessing the threat. She acknowledges the problems she could potentially cause for the pair and places them in a far away place in her mind, she will not bother them. She has seen many marriages fail, the young blinded by their own love. She has seen marriages prosper, bonds forged stronger than any metal known to man. This is the latter, she will not interfere.

She sees it in the way the gravitate towards each other, saplings twining together. Together they will grow strong.

Hands in her lap Janet speaks. "You will love him more than anything else your existence has to offer. You will be faithful, you will be kind. You will be gentle and considerate. You will love him."

Each sentence a mandate from some higher power falling from Janet's lips like the words of the old gods, long forgotten yet potent.

Leaning towards the two ever so slightly Janet continues, "If you fail to do so, I will watch you burn." The words are not an empty threat. Janet has always been prone to obsession. She knows the boy is a fighter, knows he's dangerous, but she is older, faster in her own way. She has never been a good mother, but she will do this.

Tim smiles. Her darling boy. He knows. He understands better than anyone else ever could.

Damian nods, he knows something sacred has happened, the feeling swells through him and he can do nothing but be pulled into the rising tide.

"I love him. I will always love him." It is his only answer, his only defense. It is all Janet needs. This boy will go great lengths for her son, greater lengths then she has ever taken. Tim will be happy.

A silent understanding passes through the three of them. For the first time in a long time Tim smiles freely at his mother. "Thank you." He mouths.

**Talia**

Talia comes second. Her grace and poise mimic that of Janet and when she watches the small boy beside her son, her eyes meet his. She has searched for information regarding Timothy long before she met him. All she has learned is this, he is very intelligent and very good at covering his tracks. It is not enough.

"Mother," Damian speaks proudly. "This is my betrothed, Timothy Jackson Drake, soon to be Timothy Wayne."

Her son is happy. His eyes light up with joys as he speaks of his beloved. So like her is Damian. His love pours from him.

The boy beside him, beautiful, even is youth would grow to be more so. Divine in his long white neck, his swan like limbs, he will match her son well. They are aesthetically pleasing as a pair but it bothers her that he is is, even when faced with her, so very cold. There are dark things in cold waters and she will not approve of her son marrying someone who does not love him.

Tim does not shuffle his feet or play with his hands, he stands hand in hand with Damian, blank as a slate of ice, "I am pleased to meet you."

Talia's eyes harden. "Do you love my son?"

For the longest time he does nothing but stare, his eyes searching, for a moments Talia wants to curse …and then it happens. Like the final act of a play where the small caterpillar becomes a butterfly, Tim changes before her eyes, he sheds his very skin for all the difference she can see. His metamorphosis is breathtaking. She does not know, does not understand how he can hide the weight of his love when it spills from him so freely.

His body changes, the very air around him crackles with the feel of it. She takes in a small breath of shock. Her son was in good hands.

The lilting voice she had heard speak, spoke once again. "Yes." He is sure, determined and ready. He is a commander giving an order to the thousands under his command. "Yes." He repeats, his voice breaking. He is desperately in love, and his world has changed under his very feet. He is trying to find solid ground and falling further with every step.

In a split second the curtain falls, the play is over. Tucking his soft parts back inside of himself Timothy once again appears blank, empty of everything. It is a wonderful horrible trick that Talia both admires and reviles. For a moment, one single moment, Tim was ethereal in his fullness, in the feelings that burst from his seams. She can see now why her only child has fallen love with this boy. She knows what they will be in, what they can build, what they can be, and it gives her hope.

She does nothing more than nod. She will issue no threats and ask no questions. She has seen all she needs to see. Her son is in love with a beautiful boy who loves him back.

She hopes they keep their happiness, knows that she would raise them both from the Lazarus Pit herself if she had to.

Her son was happy. That was all.

**Marry Me: Breakfast**

No one watches as he makes his way over the perfectly manicured lawn. The roses are in full bloom, devouring the stairs that lead to the front door with thorny vines and brambles. The smell is sickly sweet. It permeates the air, spreading pollen in small bursts as the flowers mature. They will undoubtedly attract bees as flowers are wont to do.

Tim is much the same and Damian has never liked insects. Like a good gardener he will keep his flower separated from the rest. He will give it fertile soil and allow it to grow in peace. Bees were wholly unnecessary to the process.

He brings with him three dahlias in full bloom. Their massive heads the perfect shade of vermillion. Each flower is larger than Damian's fist. He knows Tim will be pleased.

The door opens before Damian has a chance to knock and the soft blush that spreads across Tim's face lets Damian know that Tim hadn't intended to do so. Dressed in soft blue sleep clothes he appears well rested. His milky collarbones peek out ever so slightly. Damian restrains the urge to spread his own blazer over Tim's shoulders protectively.

''May I enter.'' Damian asks, polite as always.

Tim looks away shyly, taking the larger boy's hand in his, ''Always. Please come in. Would you like some breakfast?''

Damian hasn't eaten breakfast in Wayne Manor for days, opting to spend his mornings with Tim before walking him to school.

The table is set, but for the long stemmed vase in the center. It is filled with water but empty, waiting for the flowers it knows Damian will bring. They are lovely, just as Damian has imagined them to be. Tim feels one of the petals between his fingers, ''Thank you.''

Damian nods in acknowledgment. There had been nothing to thank.

Jams and various other preservatives litter the table. The pitcher of milk has been set, the morning tea brewed and as Tim putters around the kitchen Damian recognizes the scent of freshly baked bread. Studded with sunflower seed, poppy, sesame and various nuts, the sweet bread Tim holds a fondness for has quickly become one of Damian's favorites.

Savoring the meal, they are quiet as they eat but for the subtle actions that speak of their familiarity. Damian passes the peach jam to Tim without a word, Tim the plum to Damian. They move in tandem, their actions precise and elegant, they have known each other's preferences long before they knew each other. In a way, it is relaxing.

As Damian swipes a piece of jam from the corner of Tim's mouth he contemplates the morning sun, shining though the kitchen window, it gives his beloved a halo of light. Placing the thumb into his own mouth he licks' up the excess of jam, humming in pleasure.

There is no hurry in their morning ritual, no place to be more important than here. School has never been difficult for either of them. Perhaps this morning they will stay in. Laze about the house, amusing themselves with blanket forts and other childish things. Here in this empty house they have a secret world, unknown to all others. Here they have slow mornings and soft, chaste kisses, so light that the touch barely registers at all.

As Tim dresses and collects his school things Damian cleans the remains of their breakfast. There is a maid for these things, but Damian knows that if he does not do these things Tim will simply do them when he arrives home. His Tim has always been meticulous. It is something Damian approves of greatly.

When the last plate is put away, the jam tucked underneath the cupboards, and the table wiped Damian waits below the stairs.

Watching Tim descend down is a pleasure. One hand rests on the oak banister as he walks, eyes on Damian. His right foot is limping slightly, and Damian knows the cause, he has…dealt…with the cause. One football playing imbecile did not know how to watch where he was going. He hates that limp. Picking up Tim's black laced loafers he gestures for him to sit on the stairs.

Tim tries to protest, but Damian cuts him off with a well-placed finger to Tim's lips. ''It is due to my negligence that you have attained this injury.''

Tim smiled patiently, ''You were in the other end of the building.''

Damian frowned, his brow a deep furrow. He says nothing more. Kneeling before Tim he cups the heel of his foot. The thin white socks Tim preferred did nothing to hide the delicacy of the bone structure under his hands. Small, protruding anklebones led to lovely calves and smooth knees, unmarred by the various scuffles consistent with most boys his age. This pleases Damian. He has never liked the few scars Tim carries.

The foot in his hand is small, the shoes doll like. Little doll shoes for little doll feet Damian musses as he slips the patent leather footwear onto one petit appendage.

The injured one comes next, and try as he might Tim can't restrain a single blink of shock when Damian lifts the damaged limb. He does not hold it by the heel, the ankle lightly swollen, carrying traces of red. He holds this one with his fingers poised at the arch.

Pulling up the dark blue slacks, Damian brushes a kiss to the damaged area. He has heard that kissing ''it'' better has some form of psychological effect on pain. Easing the second shoe on, he ties the laces with quick efficiency he helps Tim up.

The kiss that brushes against his cheek as Tim braces himself to attain leverage brings him joy.

They exit hand in hand, Damian adjusting their pace for Tim. He will come again tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after and so on. He would place Tim's shoes on his little doll feet and he would walk him to school until they were no longer attending and at that point, Damian fully expected to wake up every morning with Tim nestled firmly in his arms.

Ducking his head to hide a smile, Damian squeezes Tim's hand. Tim squeezes back.

**Marry Me: Valentines**

Damian scowls as he notices the pile of cards and various assortments of chocolate resting innocently on Tim's desk.

Without a single word he picks the offerings up and disposes of them by way of garbage receptacle.

Tim smiles in his seat and watches, sipping his fruit juice from a straw. Tim was the only person Damian knew who could drink a juice box gracefully.

Watching Damian deal with the mess on his desk he was, at the core, happy. He knew that the taller boy would deal with the various admirers for him.

It was a relief.

He always hated the attention he received and dealing with the confessions required a performance he was never keen on giving. A subtle blend of apology, enough to keep him from being relegated a spiteful creature, and coldness, to prevent the idea that the confessor could wring a date from him, solely out of pity. This year, Damian would handle the issue for him with what Tim suspected would be a ruthlessness not soon forgotten.

Perhaps Tim would finally be at peace.

Disinfecting his hands the taller boy pulls a blue, square box wrapped with a lighter blue ribbon from his plain black backpack. He presents the the box to Tim, placing it on the table that had once held the previous gifts.

Taking a deep breath, Damian asks, "Would you give me the honor of being your Valentine?"

Tim sets the juice box down and accepts the box, pulling it closer towards his person.

"Yes."

Opening the container he feels warmth pooling in his stomach. He had not expected this from Damian. It did not seem to be an event he would celebrate.

The first layer of the of the box holds an assortment of decadent French chocolate.

"I have made a reservation for tonight. I had originally intended for us to dine at your home, but I believe that you will enjoy the restaurant I have chosen."

The second layer held a card, hand crafted by Damian. The drawing on the cover was an exquisite depiction of them, aged several years and dressed to be wed. The inside held the inscription, "_To my lovely Valentine_" on the left side, and on the right, "_I have pondered on the message within this card for a long while and I have decided to tell you only this. I love you and I will dedicate my life to doing so. That is all_."

"They have a decent variety of pastry that will, hopefully, meet your standard."

Tucked into the card, far less important than the drawing and inscription were two plane tickets to France. As Damian noticed Tim's attention slip from the card to the tickets he began to explain.

"The restaurant is of course, in France. We will return in time for class tomorrow morning but we must begin to leave for the airport in one hour and three minutes at the latest."

On the very bottom of the box a small stuffed Robin was squished below the other gifts.

"I have researched that such toys are customary for this event. I trust that you do not find it offensive. I understand that you are of an age -"

"I like it." Tim interrupts, squeezing the small Robin to his chest. It's eyes looked angry. "It reminds me of you."

Damian smiles in triumph.

"Alfred has agreed to chaperone the trip. I have taken the liberty of collecting your travel documents and preparing a change of clothes. I have additionally -"

"Damian." Tim interrupts yet again.

Damian blinks, clearing his throat. He has just realized that for the past few minutes he spent his time rambling. He cannot be faulted for his nervousness, he has never done this before.

Reaching into his own bag, Tim pulls out a box, much like the one Damian had presented to Tim. It is a more rectangular than square and its coloring is green.

"Will you be my Valentine?"

Tim may not have expected Damian to participate, but he had fully intended to present Damian with a gift.

Damian pauses, stuttering, "I-I, yes, of course." He is slightly breathless and his eyes are wide as he takes the gift from Tim and parts the lid from the container, slowly.

The box was, as Damian discovered, the perfect size to place a well wrapped knife of the highest quality within it. Engraved on the side of the blade, well away from the edge are three words. _Be safe love_. Below the blade sat a beautiful photograph of Tim. Damian knew that the smaller boy disliked taking pictures of himself, but enjoyed photography greatly. The image was superb, most likely set up with a tripod as Tim could not have been the behind the camera and the subject of the picture otherwise.

It had been taken in the rose garden, and depicted Tim smiling at the flowers he tended. It was a small smile, but something Damian knew was rare for one such as Tim.

Without a word Damian offered the smaller boy his hand to take, waiting for him to finish his juice box patiently, before exiting the room, carrying both of their bags with the hand not entwined with Tim's.

They had a diner reservation to meet.

**Marry Me: Drabbles**

**Grandfather: Ra's**

"May you have beautiful grandchildren."

Damian scowls, "You will not touch our grandchildren, grandfather."

Tim rubs the bridge of his nose lightly. This had been an ongoing conversation and he is tired. "I am not, in fact capable of giving birth. We will see about the incubation period when the time comes."

Ra's blinks, "Of course. That does not however, excuse my grandson's duty to care for his spouse for the duration of the pregnancy."

Tim stares, "Did you just refer to the incubation period, as my pregnancy?"

Ra's smiles, " Yes. You will feel sympathy pain during the growth of your fetus, thus it is your pregnancy. Grandson, you will rub the feet of your young wife during this period. He seems to have delicate ankles. They will swell."

Damian makes a noise of agreement.

Tim leaves the room.

He reminds Ra's of his own wife, the only woman he loved so long ago, remembering her was something he often did. He would have to give his grandson special bath salts and tinctures for his wife. He would also have to send them a wedding present. Perhaps a small country to show his approval of Damian's choice.

His newest granddaughter deserved as much.

Tim squinted his eyes in the other room, assaulted with the urge to say, "Penis. I have one."

**Robin Watching:**

Jason watches Damian put Tim's shoes on for him and squints.

"He does know that no one does that, right?"

Dick pops a piece of popcorn into his mouth, "I think this is just his mating ritual."

Damian helps the smaller boy rise.

Jason snorts, "What, like, Robin presents his potential mate the worm, mate is not satisfied, Robin proceeds with mating dance, kind of thing?"

Dick frowns, "I don't think Robins do that."

"Not the point Dickiebird, so not the point."

They watch as Damian carries Tim out the front door.

Dick coos. "It's like Tim's a fairy princess and Damian is his prince."

Jason shakes his head, "Damian is the dragon." he then continues by saying, "He's also being drugged."

Dick blinks, "Who?"

Jason sighs, "Damian, Dickie, Damian."

Dick almost spills his popcorn, "Nope, this is where you're wrong Jay, no one would actually want to have Damian after them. I love him but he's the antichrist."

Jason ponders the statement, "This is true."

**Bruce:**

"You do realize, that I do not approve of this relationship."

Tim is serene despite the fact that he is alone with Bruce for the first time ever. Damian has been vigilant.

"I understand." He begins. "I do have to warn you that in roughly two minutes my mother as well as my mother in law will be here to convince you otherwise."

Bruce's glare intensifies.

"How?" He asks. In no time did he see Tim make any sort of call.

Tim stands, "I suspected that this would happen. I made a contingency plan."

The two women who entered looked ready to tie Bruce to a spit and set him on fire before feasting on his flesh. In a very dignified way, of course.

Tim left knowing he had the stronger party on his side. They would convince Bruce, on his behalf, that his relationship with Damian was, in fact, suitable. Either that or Bruce would die as they tried.

**Marry Me: Highschool**

They enter highschool in a flash of laughter and joy. They are brilliant and shining, two stars gone supernova.

They flit through the halls, untouched by all others, lost in their brightness, in their glory, and the glory that comes from two singular hearts beating out the same rhythm.

Tim's riotous laughter fills the air and Damian can't help but respond accordingly. Twirling the smaller boy in his arms, they dance through the halls. Their feet tap out the steps to a bastardized waltz. No one is in the school but the janitors, and administrative workers. A few teachers have come early but the halls are empty, free of interference. Their dance remains private.

They never meant to come so early, but they are here and as far as they can see, there is no one else, so they will take this moment and make it theirs.

Dropping Tim into a shallow dip, Damian pecks the tip of his nose. Tim squeaks before giggling, straining upwards to place a matching kiss on the taller boy's cheek.

A year ago, this is something neither of them would have done, but the year has been kind and they are young. More than that they are in love and the world has never been brighter. Damian can't help but hope, that they'll spend all their time, just like this. Dancing through halls, and streets and ballrooms. He can't help but hope that they will be as happy as they are now for a very long time.

They are content and as Tim slips free from Damian's hold breaking into a mischievous run, he can not help but feel joy.

"Catch me." Tim laughs.

Damian smirks and gives chase, following the paler boy through the pathways of the school.

He may have been Robin, but Tim was fast, lightning quick and smart.

However, he was still Robin. Eventually he catches the smaller boy, lifting him from behind. Tim loops his arms around Damian's neck to steady himself.

He had taken refuge in their first period class and Damian can't help but carry him to their usual seat, plopping down on the plastic chair, his betrothed nestled in his lap.

Tucking an errant strand of hair behind Tim's ear, Damian speaks, "I have caught you."

Tim shifts slightly, making himself more comfortable, "So you have, , and what are your plans? Now that you've caught me."

Damian replies, "I think I'll keep you." Gently pushing Tim's head to rest of his shoulder, Damian runs his fingers through soft black hair.

"I'd like that Mr. Wayne." Tim whispers into Damian's shoulder.

Together, always together, they wait for the day to start for everyone else. For children to pile into the classroom and the teacher to try and fail to tell them that sitting on another person is not allowed in class.

**Titans**

"Dude." Kon starts, staring at Nightwing, "The new Robin is like, the devil."

Dick wished he could say differently.

"And then, he was really nice on the phone to someone, like ridiculously nice for someone who threatens to maim everyone on a regular basis. For someone who does maim everyone on a regular basis."

Dick groans. He knows where this is going and he does not know how he is going to explain Tim to Kon without making his tiny Krytonian brain hurt. He wonders how he could even begin to explain Tim, at all, to anyone."

Superboy is still very confused, and slightly awed, and it shows, definitely Tim, "He called them darling, he called the person on the phone darling!"

Dick sighs and wishes that he could stop making these noises but everything that is the engagement of Damian and Tim demands them. That and repetitive face palming.

"Superboy," Dick warns, "You don't want to know. You really don't want to know. I know and sometimes I really wish I didn't."

This does not stop Kon from being curious and before he can begin to pester Dick for more information the older man cuts him off, "If you really want to know, ask Damian."

What ensues is a curt conversation that involves Kon doing a spit take as Damian bluntly informs him that the person he was speaking to was his betrothed and that he should shut his filthy alien mouth before flies start landing there.

What happens afterwards is a very traumatized Kon flying to Bludhaven to bother Dick. Dick is not amused.

"Dude, he's engaged? He's what, fourteen? Fifteen?"

Dick sighs, rubbing sleep from his eyes, "He's thirteen." He slurs, Damian has always been big for his age.

Kon blinks, "Really? Wait, no, not the point. He's engaged?"

Dick flops back onto his bed, covering his face with a pillow, Kon can barely make out the words, "Yes, and it's serious. His fiance is terrifying, and probably not human."

Kon nods and backs away slowly as Nightwing starts flailing his limbs muttering about inhuman pixie boys who tamed the antichrist. The pillow is still covering his face. Superboy realizes, that he probably does not want to know.

…

Telling the team this new information is a perilous process which for the most part leaves all of them laughing until Damian confirms it as true and then all hell breaks loose.

All of their attempted lectures on how he's too young and he needs to live more before making such decisions fall flat in the face of Damian's bullheaded insistence that he he was right and they were stupid.

Me'g'an pointedly will not read Damian's mind after the last time she attempted to do so and something tried to eat her. She does not like the younger boy's insides, they are not a very kind place to traverse.

…

Meeting Tim is like meeting some sort of mythical creature they had imagined a million times over but had never seen. It was like meeting a unicorn, or a yeti, or the loch ness monster in all its majesty, except somehow more because this was someone who could make Robin behave. No yeti had ever managed to do that.

Meeting Tim was like meeting someone who knew everything you had ever done in your entire life and he was not impressed, so really Kon take that silly earring out, and Cassie why is your midriff bared and the Titans can do nothing but collectively straighten their backs under the cold blue gaze.

Damian is a perfect gentlemen.

Cassie manages to choke on air and Kara who had come for this occasion specifically, nearly looses control of her heat vision in shock, because hearing it and actually seeing are two different things entirely.

Their second thought, past the little voice screaming at them that this is what married Damian is the knowledge that Tim is really pretty. Seriously pretty, like, too the extent that Kon blushes ever so slightly as Tim takes the hand Damian offered to him and glides past the gaping teens. Cassie is a little bit jealous.

Kon is too busy wondering if Tim is human, because he has never seen anyone move with such grace, to notice.

**Thinking**

Bruce sighs down in the batcave.

"Alfred, do you think the engagement is a good thing?"

Alfred continues his ritual cleaning one of the many bats in the cave with a toothbrush as he replies, "Master Bruce, I would not presume to tell you what to think. On another note Damian is truly happy now, he's better adjusted, less violent and I do believe it bears repeating, happy."

Bruce smiles wryly, he'll take that as a yes.

He wonders how of all of them, his youngest has had, perhaps, the longest and most stable relationship.

**Bear**

Selina watches as Damian picks up a small grey kitten with long fur that edged into black and in some places white. It mewled pathetically as the youngest Robin tucked the ball of fur under his cape.

"I can take the kitten from you, If you want."

Damian usually gave the stray cats he found to Selina to take care of. He was the only Robin with a spare key to her apartment.

He shakes his head, "This one is a gift."

Selina grins, "Oh. Are you brining home a pet for your little wife."

Damian smiled, privately Selina thought that Tim was adorable, much like the kitten hiding on Damian's person.

"Yes." Damian stated proudly before disappearing into the night.

…

Presenting Tim with the kitten Damian made sure the little tom had been neutered and groomed prior to the gifting. He would not present Tim a dirty cat, regardless of how endearing the animal was.

"I understand." Damian began, "That you are technically not allowed to have pets but this cat is mine and as you are my future spouse we must care for our pets together. You may tell your parents that you are taking care of it for a friend if they visit and we are unable to move the animal to Wayne Manor in a timely fashion."

Tim reaches out, eyes wide, to hold the kitten. Upon touching the beast, the small thing starts purring immediately. Damian is pleased. It would not do for Tim's pet to dislike him.

Cuddling the kitten close, Tim strokes one downy ear with his fingers, "What's his name." He asks.

Damian places his arms behind his back, standing at attention. "I have not given him one, I was hoping that you would do the honors."

Tim bites his lip, considering, "I would. I would like to call him Bear."

Damian blinks. Such a nonsensical name was something he had not expected from Tim. He will not reject this suggestion, he can see how nervous Tim is and he will not make him unhappy. After all, what is the price of a name for the happiness of his beloved. Bear is a fine moniker for a cat.

"He will be a very confused cat. " Damian quips.

Tim hears the humor in Damian's voice and his shoulders cease tensing, "But he'll be our confused cat, won't he?" He teases.

Damian reaches out a hand to help pet Bear, "Yes, he will."

…

Bear true to his namesake grows to be a monster of a cat, the size of a miniature tiger and twice as mean.

What had once been a small kitten becomes a hell creature with great claws and tufted ears. Bear looked like the cat equivalent of an escaped convict, crazed glowing eyes gleaming as he brought home large birds and sewer rats.

Damian taught Bear to to attack anyone who came near Tim. The highlight of this training was when Bear urinated on Todd. Even Tim had been quietly amused as Jason ran around the room trying to kill their cat and failing.

Tim spoiled the monster, giving it cuddles and affection, as well as small cat treats. In return, Bear followed Tim devotedly, much like Damian


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: Damian and Tim are twelve and engaged. This is their first fight and first kiss.

Other Side: Damian's reaction to being on the other side of the building when Tim was injured.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

...

Their first fight is an explosion. It's a country responding to the tectonic plates shifting beneath it, hot magma reaching cool earth, spreading volcanic essence across soil.

At least. It feels that way.

It starts with a simple issue and escalates.

"I am fully capable of taking care of myself." Tim hisses, eyes trained on the taller boy pacing in front of him desperately. "You can go, I will be fine."

"You should not have to." Damian pleaded, and it was most certainly a plead. Please let me do this, let me take of you, but Tim would not be moved.

The smaller boy arranged his pillows once more, reclining on the soft surface of his bed. Damian was meant to patrol for the night, but Tim's immune system was fighting off a simple cold, nothing more than a stuffed nose and a headache. Ailments Tim had battled alone for years upon years.

Damian was insisting on keeping him company, outraged at the idea of leaving his betrothed alone, sick and hurting with no one to offer solace or comfort of any kind.

He can see that the younger boy will not be moved so he tries again, kneeling by the side of the bed, taking one small pale hand in his own, reveling in their differences, in the way he engulfed the smaller limb, keeping it safe.

Tim's hand was clammy and cold, a light tremor unsettling it.

Damian would not leave this night.

"Please." He begs. "Let me do this."

His voice is slightly above the sound of a whisper, loud as gun shot in the silence of the room.

Damian swallows and tries to find the words to continue when all he can see is images of worst case scenarios, seizures and life ending cancers, diseases of the flesh and bone devouring his Tim as he fights in some dirty alley far away from this room.

He knows that is not logical, not rational, or in any way possible and that all Tim has is a simple cold, but the thoughts will not leave.

Gripping Tim's hand he tries to speak. "Please. Even if it is just to humor me, you must indulge me in this matter, please. I close my eyes and I see you in this room shriveling into nothing and I -"

Damian stops himself before the words become too much, too dark and unhappy. Before he overflows with the sheer terror he feels at the human ills that could befall Tim and cripple him far worse than any bullet or knife, take away his mind, and turn his body into a sad, broken thing.

He knows this is not logical, that he would turn the world over to find a cure, use the pit to revive his beloved, bring him back in perfect condition if need be, but his heart feels terror and his mind does not wish to leave.

Sighing, Tim deflates, all anger leaving him. He knows that Damian means the best.

"You have a duty." Tim reminds him.

Damian strokes the hand he still holds in his, "I have no duty more important than you and I will swear it now if you wish. I have nothing to honor that usurps your position. Let me do this."

It is a demand, a promise, a righteous cry from the lips of the boy who will one day become the man he marries.

Tim does not know what to say in the face of this open affection. His mother loved him in her own way, but never would she say it, never would she stay with him when illness fell.

He does not know what to do in the face of someone who will not be moved, so he lashes out, because it is the only thing he can do to stop the aching hurt that reminds him of all the times he's administered his own medicine and cooked his own soup.

Ripping his hand away, Tim's face smoothes into the cold mask he presents to the public, "This is entirely unnecessary. Do you think me so fragile that you need to watch me sleep?"

"No, I think that you have a minor cold and that I should be here to make you feel better."

Tim sniffs, "And what do you know of making people feel better?"

It's a low blow and both of them know it. A nudge to Damian's heritage as an Al Ghul, as a bringer of pain and suffering. His are not the hands that heal.

_The earthquake has come and the very first casualty is a robin, must be a robin, for someone must suffer in the face of such an ache. The ground swells and shakes. The foundations are weakened._

Damian closes his eyes to collect himself before standing, "I will care for you, and I will not leave tonight. If you'll excuse me I have soup to prepare. It is the traditional meal of the sick, is it not?"

_The first building falls with an echoing crash._

With that he departs Tim clutches the bedsheets. He just wants the taller boy to go away, to leave him be a he has always been.

They spend their night in a cat and mouse chase, neither cat nor mouse, alternating the roll.

_The workers try to bring people from the fallen rubble, they dig and they search but for every person they find, for every one they save another fades away. They wage a battle with the earth itself and the earth..is angry._

When morning comes, Tim is tired, his headache removing any thought of sleep from his mind. His eyes are tired and Damian remains by his side, dutifully peeling an apple for his consumption.

He does not know what to do but he feels like crying, and everything hurts so why is Robin still there, sitting and watching him.

_When day break comes, they re-build. They mourn their losses, and bury their dead but they begin to remake the foundations that had fallen, the buildings that had toppled over like dominoes in the hands of a child._

Burying his face in his pillow Tim breathes as a large hand lightly massages his back.

"Hush." Damian murmurs, "Hush love."

The sobs come easily, because Tim is not used to this affection nor this attention and neither is Damian and tonight had been far too much.

Tired, sleep deprived and aching Tim succumbs to his urges, wailing miserably for the first time since he was old enough to know better, to understand that no one would come if he called, but someone has come. Someone is slipping into bed with him, pulling him into their arms and cooing softly in broken Arabic.

"Forgive me." Damian whispers, "I have been too harsh on you, but love, Tim, you must let me care for you."

He is a solid presence in the smaller boys' world, his body an anchor in a storm.

"I" Tim hiccups, voice broken, "I, don't know how."

_When the buildings rise, they are larger, better consolidated then before. Their new bodies built to last. They stretch for endless miles upwards reaching for the sky, no concern for the ground below, prone to movement as it is._

Damian smoothes sweat soaked hair from his beloved's face, "It's okay." He whispers, "It's all going to be okay."

And it is.

_The earthquakes passes. They rebuild and when that last brick is set, the last bit of mortar dry, they look, and see a city far stronger for the faults that brought it down._

**First Kiss.**

Their first kiss appears after their their first fight, the light of the morning shining through the gauzy white curtains by Tim's bedside.

Damian remains wrapped around him, feeling the way he breathes.

There is something better about this day, this aftermath. This remaking. Something that they can not place until they do.

_Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision._

They watch each other, not with a wariness, but a calm. Tim's eyes are rimmed with red, his nose rosy and Damian can not help but find it hopelessly endearing.

The smaller boy's hands curl in Damian's shirt unconsciously, clinging to him, keeping him close. He would have noticed if his own hands weren't so thoroughly wrapped around Tim.

_You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part._

Their bodies are flush against each other and a wet spot sits on the side of Damian's shirt. Proof of Tim's breakdown. He does not know what to say, what to bring forth in this quiet conversation other than _thank you_ and_ I think I may love you_, because he does not know because _I'm terrified that I may love you._

_Because this is what love is. Love is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are._

He said yes, once upon a time in a classroom to a boy he had never spoken too before but agreed to spend the rest of his life with because he knew that he could fall in love with this boy. Not the affection he had felt, but love.

He knew that he could, and he had never though he would be able to, that something had frozen in him long ago, but he believed himself for the first time capable of it.

_Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident._

But believing oneself capable and experiencing the emotion were two separate and tangled things. This feeling had bubbled up though him, filled his veins with light and happiness, travelled through his lungs until all he could release was a shocked little "Oh." The sound popping from his lips with ease.

"I'm in love with you." He breathes out, eyes wide and trained on the darker blue in front of him.

Because what else could this wonderful, horrible feeling be, and he had always had it, buried underneath, this spark of sunshine and firefly light that lit up around his robin, but oh, he's in love and he had never believed himself capable.

_We had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two._

Damian drew in a breath, and leaned towards Tim, brushing one set of lips against the other, ever so gently, ever so lightly and sweetly. The first kiss the promise, the reassurance.

_We were one tree and not two._

In the aftermath of the earthquake, they had met, limbs reaching towards each other, building themselves without knowing into one single tree. Not two.

**Other Side**

Damian knows that there is nothing he could have done for a fall that occurred a building away. Nothing he could have insisted on nor protocol he could have used to prevent it.

He finds out one period after the offense happens, bloodthirsty and cruel, his upbringing coming to the forefront, demanding that he take recompense for the pain caused.

He knows it was most likely an accident, knows that there was no way he could have been there to stop the fall, the push but he is guilty none the less.

It is his duty to care for Tim, it is the very thing he swore, the contract he implied when he asked for his hand.

He is to make sure the smaller boy is safe and he has failed, even when there was nothing to be done, even when he knows that soon he will take vengeance against this slight. He is guilty because a small voice in his head will not stop telling him that _you should have been there._

This is because he should have.

Soon he will change his schedule. He spends most of his time in Tim's classes and his calculus is superb.

He will not allow this to happen once more.

**Marry Me: Brothers**

Damian slammed his hands down at the breakfast table. "Listen you incompetent cretins."

His eyes are slits, his back curled like that of a feral cat.

" Mother has requested my presence and for this, Tim many not come. Due to my location I will not be able to guard my betrothed. You will do so in my place."

Dick slowly put down his cereal bowl and quickly covered Jason's mouth with his hand as the younger by made to speak.

"Why, would Tim need protection Damie? It's not like he's on anyone's hit list."

Damian cussed in Arabic, vicious slurs against Dick's mother. Someone needed to save him from well meaning idiots.

Leaning forward he tries to explain himself, "Timothy is a beautiful boy in Gotham, by virtue of that alone he is in danger."

Dick knows the kinds of things that can happen to good looking kids in a city like theirs. He knows when the harbors whisper things about human trafficking, when they ask for "special deliveries".

Tim, however, is not a street urchin. He is an upper class boy who remains in the well established areas of Gotham, the well to do.

Jason bites his hand. Hard.

Yelping Dick shakes the limb. He's not shocked as much as he's upset that he didn't consider exactly what Robin number two was willing to do. He should have known better.

The words that come out of his younger brothers mouth, however, manage to do what the bite failed to, "Yeah, we'll take care of your babybird."

Dick isn't sure where this is going and from the look on Damian's face. Neither is he.

"Why?" The youngest Robin questions. Todd was the least likely to go along with his plan, the one he expected the most resistance from.

Jason leans back, eyes aglow, "Well demon." He drawls, kicking his feet up on the table, crossing them with leisure, "I've taken a liking to your boy and I thought that I may as well taken him for myself. You know, something pretty to look at."

He just manages the finish the sentence before a knife is placed against his throat, "Shut your filthy, lying, mouth Todd."

Dick interrupts, "Okay, knife away. I know Jaybird was being an ass, but he didn't mean it."

Damian sneered, pressing the knife close, "I know is he not truly interested in pursuing my Timothy, Grayson. If he was, he would be dead by now. This is a warning."

His eyes never leave Jason.

"I will say this once Todd and only once. You speak of my betrothed in that manner again and I will cut off your tongue. There will be no second warning."

Jason does nothing but smile, "Alright, alright brat. I don't want your betrothed. I do want to get to know the person who has you so whipped."

Damian snorts and removes the knife. Of course Todd would say yes solely out of curiosity.

Glancing back at Dick, the youngest Robin asks, "And you, Grayson?"

Nightwing, glad that no blood was spilled, answered, "Sure little bird. No problem."

Damian jumped off the table he had been kneeling on. The position had left pieces of bacon on his knee.

"I will take my leave now. I have left you instructions in the batcave."

…

Dick and Jason looked at the paper copy of the "instructions" Damian had left.

Instructions being a word that did not usually mean three bound volumes entitles The Care of Timothy Drake, One Through Three. Each volume was the roughly the size of a telephone book and contained information Damian felt was necessary to know when watching over Tim.

None of the books gave away anything as to who Tim was as a person despite the detailed notes of what they were to do with Tim in case of a zombie apocalypse.

Jason looked up from the middle of volume two, and asked, "Why would need to know that if Tim and I quote, "Suffers from a paper cut, he must be presented with a plaster of an appropriate size. The plaster must be green. It must be given two minutes after the cut but not before-" Really?"

Dick idly flicked the pages of Volume Three, "How long do you think he watched Tim, I mean some of this stuff, what brands of soap he prefers? Down to the closest locations where we can buy more. That's pretty creepy."

Jason snorts, setting the book down. "Dickie, we passed creepy a long time ago, this is Arkham territory now."

…

Watching over Tim is a bit like meeting Tim.

Shocking, terrifying. Unsettling in the way speaking to a living breathing doll would make a person.

Dick does not know what to do as he tries to make conversation, "So, Tim. How's school."

Tim blinks, watching the older man like one would watch an insect in a box, "Adequate." In his mind Dick imagines that he's being pinned like a specimen, his arms and legs spread out, forced into place by nails.

The younger boy returns to his novel. He feels no need to socialize. Out of the corner of his eyes he is aware of Dick's fidgeting. A foot tapping to a random beat, fingers drumming on the leather of the armchair.

Jason is in the kitchen, making himself a sandwich. Tim can hear him mutter as he searches for the mayonnaise.

He will find none.

Tim has never liked the taste.

Settling his book down, he does not make a sound. He does not sigh, he does not announce his actions. He simply enters a movie into the dvd player and waits for Jason to sit down on the couch beside him with his massive sandwich, to press play.

He understands Damian's actions. Knows that the two men are here to settle his paranoid fear that one day Tim will be taken away, hurt and that Damian will have done nothing to stop it.

He will humor his future husband and he will humor the two who have been trespassing in his abode.

They have promised to stay with him so he will allow them this comfort, give them something to do with their nervous energy, for they are nervous, unsure of their steps.

A film allows them to interact with the screen, laugh and make merry, while leavingTim to rest in the dark, the forced conversation stilled.

He knows why they have agreed. They wished to meet the one who ensnared their youngest and Tim has not been particularly accommodating. He supposes, that it a mixture of his unwillingness to show them his soft parts and his need to have the higher ground.

The more stable position.

..

Jason finds him in the garden, bent over the roses he so loved.

"Hey. Why did you agree to marry him, Damian, I mean."

Tim placed the clippers down on the floor. His poor flowers would have to wait a moment or two for their pruning. He had expected this question to come. Was surprised that it had not happened sooner.

He will answer truthfully. As much as he able, and perhaps the second Robin will understand, or maybe he won't, but Tim will try.

"I love him. I loved him before I knew what that really meant, and I when close my eyes, when I wake up in the morning, there's this moment, this perfect, wonderful moment where I remember that he's there even though I've been dreaming of him all night. Do you understand Jason?"

It is the first time the older boy has heard Tim speak so much, and such gentle words. His tone his bland, his eyes blank, but there is something. Beneath the words, beneath the calm, there is a fire and if Jason squints his eyes, if he tries as hard as he can he can almost see it.

He can almost see the boy his little brother loves, in the roses which are so well cared for that they shame to ones Alfred keeps in the Wayne Gardens. In that fire he is almost certain was not real.

"No." Jason replies, watching Tim, in his coveralls and hat, his white t-shirt tucked underneath as he once again picked up the shears.

"I don't know what that's like."

Tim purses his lifts, and cuts of a stem, then another. "It's like falling asleep."

Jason does not know what to say, does not quite understand, even though he sees it in the distance, the far off shadow of the thing Tim spoke of.

He goes back inside the house with more questions that he had when he went out.

Questions like,_ if I peeled off your skin, who would you be?What would it take to move you? Has Damian seen you cry?_

_Can you even cry?_

And most important of all_, what does it feel like to be in love?_

_.._

Dick frowns as he enters the Drake house, feet dragging behind him.

Today was not a good day. He and Jason had been switching off patrol and the night before had been Dick's night out. Never before had anything gone so horribly wrong.

He had stopped the mugging but it was already too late. The mother was bad enough, but the kid was the worst.

Bullet wound to the head.

Dredging up his last reserves of joy, he smiles at Tim, sad and broken.

The small boy gazed at Dick, eyes sharp.

Without a word he turned on his heel and left to prepare tea. And cake, and some warm soup to eat before the cake, chicken broth and noodles, plainly spiced. Easy to stomach.

They spend the day, sequestered on the sofa, watching old reruns of horrible television shows from Dick's childhood.

Dick watches Tim from the pile of blankets he's been wrapped in. He always knew that Tim couldn't have been a bad person. He just didn't think the smaller boy could be so sweet.

…

Damian returned in a blaze of savagery, ripping Dick from his place on the couch beside Tim, inserting himself in Dick's spot, only closer, pushing up against the smaller figure until he held him in his lap.

Huffing, Damian cocked his head to look at Dick and Jason.

Dick who was sprawled on the floor and Jason who was laughing on the armchair.

"I told you to protect him in my absence not touch him."

Dick rubbed his back. "I wasn't touching him."

Damian had, in fact, noticed that little detail. "Two things Grayson, one, you were close enough and two, you were in my spot.

…..


End file.
